


The Varlet

by rusty_armour



Category: Robin of Sherwood
Genre: Gen, Humor, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rusty_armour/pseuds/rusty_armour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gisburne and that wolfshead must join forces when a new outlaw in town threatens the popularity of Robin Hood and his Not-So-Merry Band!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Varlet

**Author's Note:**

> This very bizarre parody was originally published in issues 3 and 4 of Raconteur. I'd like to thank Kirsty for all of her patience and support and for publishing this story in the first place.
> 
> © 1999

The day had seemed so promising when it began. When Robin had opened his eyes, golden rays of sunlight had filtered through the trees. Birdsong had filled his ears as he walked to the water pump. He gazed at his reflection in the bucket and noticed that his hair looked spectacular this morning. Loxley's locks be damned, he thought smugly.

"We should go to Wickham," he announced, once he had returned to the camp. As his friends were still asleep, he cheerfully prodded them to their feet and repeated the suggestion.

"But we haven't had breakfast yet!" protested Tuck.

"There are plenty of nourishing berries in the forest and water in the stream."

"A fat lot of good that will do," grumbled Will.

"Perhaps they'll be cooking something in the village," said Much.

"You're right," answered John, smiling broadly. "Besides, we haven't visited in over a fortnight."

"Then we definitely owe them a visit," said Robin. "Come on!"

  


* * * * 

  
The villagers were already attending to their chores. The outlaws were disappointed when no enticing aromas wafted out to greet them. But, then, the villagers hadn't made much of an effort to greet them either.

Robin stared at them in stunned amazement for a moment, then decided that the villagers must have missed their entrance.

"Have no fears!" Robin said. "The outlaws of Sherwood are here!" One man lifted his head. Robin flicked back his hair, placed his hands on his hips, thrust out his chest and shouted, "It's Robin Hood and his men!"

A little girl walked past and scowled. John managed to grab Will before he lunged at the child. While John pinned Will to the ground, Edward hurried towards the group.

"Robin!" Edward said. "How are you?"

Robin slowly removed his hands from his hips; his chest was already sagging in dejection.

"Edward, what's happened?" asked Tuck in alarm.

Edward sighed. "Ignore them. I'm certain they'll forget him altogether...eventually."

"Forget about who?" demanded Robin. Edward looked around cautiously. Unfortunately, all of the villagers were listening attentively.

"The Varlet," whispered Edward.

"What?" cried the outlaws.

__  
Who's the boldest in the land,  
The renegade without a band?  
The Varlet! He's the Varlet! 

"What?" cried the outlaws.

__  
His cloak is dark and shrouds his face,  
His steed is black and quick its pace.  
The Varlet! Hail the Varlet! 

"Haven't you heard?" said Matthew, appearing at his father's elbow. "It's all the villages have been talking about for days."

"But who is this Varlet?" said Robin.

The villagers opened their mouths.

"NO!" shouted the outlaws. "Don't sing again!"

Edward shook his head sadly. "You'd better come with me."

With Scarlet held securely by John and Nasir, the outlaws followed Edward. Their friend led them to the other side of Wickham, and soon the men were standing before a solitary goat. The goat was nibbling the grass outside his pen. Like the rest of the villagers, he didn't even spare a glance for the outlaws. Again, Robin's chest deflated, and, again, Will attempted to pounce on this aggressor.

"Varlet! Varlet! Someone means to harm our beloved goat again!" screamed Edward.

The entire village ran to the goat pen en masse. Then they realized it was just a member of Robin Hood's band and wandered away. A few weeks ago, they might have been frightened, but, since they had met the Varlet, those wolfsheads meant little to them.

Robin was angry. He heaped all the curses and abuse an earl's son could muster on the hapless villagers of Wickham. "And what's with this bloody goat?" he ranted, as he concluded his tirade.

"He isn't bloody," protested Edward. "Yug is the most beautiful goat in the shire!"

"Yug?" asked Will, who made no attempt to hold back his laughter. "What kind of name is Yug?"

"Yug is a perfectly good name...for a goat," argued Edward testily. "Besides, my father's name was Yug."

Scarlet fell to the ground, sobbing. His friends didn't fare much better, except for Much, who didn't understand what was so funny. John managed to recover first, pulling himself up on his elbows.

"Your father died when he was very young didn't he, Edward?" asked John.

"Well, yes, but I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"Edward," said Robin, wiping away his tears. "What does Yug have to do with the Varlet?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing!"

"It's what the Varlet has to do with Yug that is really significant."

"I see," said Robin, who did nothing of the kind.

Edward placed a hand on Robin's shoulder. "It's quite simple. So simple that even Much might understand."

"Understand what?" asked Much.

"One faithful night, when we were all abed, a thief stole into the village to...to steal Yug."

"Did he steal him?" inquired Much.

Will jabbed him in the ribs.

"No, the Varlet rescued him," said Edward. "We woke to find the thief tied up and the Varlet returning Yug to his pen. We invited the Varlet to stay and enjoy what humble hospitality we could offer, but he disappeared as mysteriously as he had come."

"And he just left the thief there?" asked Tuck.

"Oh, he wasn't there long. Gisburne arrived the next morning to arrest him."

"Oh."

"So this lunatic in a cloak shows up to save your goat and suddenly all of Wickham worships the ground 'e walks on?" growled Scarlet.

"Oh, no, he's done much more than that! He's been back here twice since then, not to mention his visits to all the other villages. He brought us a whole sack full of gold three days ago. It would have come in useful if Gisburne hadn't insisted on returning it to Nottingham Castle the following day."

"The Varlet broke into Nottingham Castle?" exclaimed Robin.

"Oh, yes. He's committed several daring deeds. If he wasn't called 'The Varlet,' I'd think he was one of you!"

Robin began to laugh and, for the first time since he had arrived in Wickham, relief shone visibly on his face.

"All right, which one of you was it? Come on. Confess."

His men stared back at him blankly.

"It wasn't one of us, lad!" said John.

"I don't know, John. You've been known to frequent Wickham at night..."

"Aye, but not with goats!"

"It wasn't John," replied Edward. "He wasn't that tall."

"And I assume that it wasn't me because he wasn't that fat," said Tuck.

Edward smiled gently and nodded.

"Will?" inquired Robin.

"What?"

"Was it you?"

"Do I look like someone who'd rescue a goat?" shouted Scarlet.

"What if his name was 'Yug'?" asked Much.

"Shut up!"

"All right, it definitely wasn't Will," concluded Robin.

"Do you think it could have been me?" suggested Much.

"NO!" answered everyone, including Edward.

Much beamed happily. "That's all right, then." But it wasn't because Much suddenly frowned. "If it wasn't me, then who was it?"

Slowly, every man's gaze fell on the Saracen. Nasir raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you did say he wore black," said Robin.

"I've never heard the Varlet say much either," admitted Edward.

Robin stood before his taciturn friend, his hands resting on Nasir's shoulders. "It's all right. I forgive you."

"I didn't do it," stated the Saracen.

"No, of course you didn't. However, if you did do it, I understand."

"No."

"You just wanted some of the glory and fame for yourself, Naz. It can't be easy living in my shadow."

"Your fat Norman head casts fat Norman shadows, but I didn't do it."

"But, Nasir, all of the evidence points to you!"

The Saracen broke away from Robin, his eyebrows shooting out of sight, his lips curling in contempt. He remembered the singing villagers and shuddered briefly. He drew himself up to his full height with dignity. "I would never have my own song."

  


* * * * 

  
Back at the camp, the outlaws stared at the fire glumly. They would have been eating and staring at the fire glumly, but even the deer were avoiding their company today.

"Who is he?" said John.

"I don't know," replied Tuck.

Robin was studying Nasir intently again.

"No," said Nasir.

"Are you sure?"

The Saracen raised an eyebrow.

"Does that mean 'Yes' or 'No'?" asked Robin.

"I think it's one for 'Yes' and two for 'No,'" answered John.

The Saracen made a gesture that didn't involve eyebrows and promptly left the camp.

Robin sighed, then rose as well. "I must find the Varlet before he causes more strife."

"You're the one who's causing all the strife!" retorted Will.

"I shall find the Varlet and get some answers from him."

"Now that's more like it!" said Will. "Let's get 'im!"

Robin raised a hand and shook his head. "No, Will. I must do this alone."

"Why?"

"It would be the braver and more impressive thing to do. I'll never get a song written about me if you lot tag along!"

Tuck gazed at his leader sternly. "Be careful, Robin."

"Yeah," Will said. "You gotta watch those minstrels, what with their trusty swords an' all."

"You're right, Will. I never even thought of that! I'd better consult Herne."

"The sooner the better as far as I'm concerned."

"Yes, the sooner the better."

"I think Will Scarlet is dead sexy and has much nicer hair than I do."

"Will!" yelled the others.

Robin shook his head as if to clear it. "I must be on my way."

  


* * * * 

  
Robin wandered through Sherwood in search of the Varlet, but he couldn't find a trace of Wickham's elusive hero. Therefore, he decided to start working on his song. If he could peg down even one verse, the song might catch on in the villages and the people would add the rest.

Robin smiled as he thought about his brilliant plan. However, after several hours of composing, he had very little to show for it.

"Robin Hood," he sang. "Robin...da, da, da, da...The Hooded Man. Da dum." The Hooded Man walked over to a tree and began to bang his head against it miserably.

"Damn the Varlet and his fascinating apparel!"

  


* * * * 

  
When Robin's head had stopped throbbing and his vision began to clear, he continued on his quest with renewed fervour. Unfortunately, he still hadn't found any trace of the Varlet. He did find Nasir, though. He spotted the Saracen trying to join another band.

Nasir had approached a very unsavoury cutthroat, who had thick stubble and oily hair. Nevertheless, Nasir braced himself and asked. The cutthroat shook his head.

"Is that one shake for 'Yes' and two for 'No'?" asked the Saracen hopefully.

"What does shaking your head mean in your country, infidel?" snapped the cutthroat. He shook his head twice and indicated the quickest route out of their camp. "If it wasn't for those two swords strapped to your back, I'd kill you," added the cutthroat. "Did you really think we'd want some member of Robin Hood's decrepit band?"

As Nasir quickly dispatched the cutthroat and his men, Robin continued on his journey with an even heavier heart. Then he tripped over a hidden root as mist covered everything before him.

"I wish he could warn me for once," muttered Robin. As the forest god approached, Robin favoured the horned one with a winning smile on bended knee.

"Herne," stated the outlaw.

"Gree-ees mowon."

Robin blinked. "It's a...nice day, wouldn't you say?"

"Ivween bewere."

Robin scratched his head. "Is this another riddle?"

"Luffswa riful. Yo muz magovet wad yuwull."

Robin began to tear at his hair. "What are you saying? I don't understand you!"

"Ah yo nowuced de tofwa."

Robin backed away slowly.

"Wa aru dooin mowon?"

Herne's son turned and quickly stumbled out of the glade.

Herne watched him for a few moments in astonishment, then bowed his stag head. He spit a gooey mass into his hand and studied it critically. He had just invented the first batch of English toffee and had wanted to share the discovery with his son. The pagan forest god grunted and threw the sticky wad into the bushes in disgust. Obviously, that invention would never go anywhere.

  


* * * * 

  
As the sun began to set, Robin crept towards Wickham. He finally understood what path destiny had meant him to follow: he had to kill Yug. Yug had begun this cycle of hideous events, created this chasm of chaos. Because of Yug, Nasir had left the band, Herne had been transformed into a gibbering old fool, and Robin Hood's golden hair was lying flat and lifeless against his head! Yes, it all came back to the goat. Yug was to blame and now Yug would have to pay.

As the sky darkened and the moon peeped out from behind the clouds, the outlaw stood outside the goat pen. The spawn of Evil gazed up at him thoughtfully, chewing on a boot. Robin watched the boot slowly disappear and realized that this was going to be harder than he thought.

When the boot was no more, the outlaw braced himself. While he had watched the goat dine on his last meal, he had decided that it would be less painful on the villagers if he spirited the goat away and killed him quickly in Sherwood. It was safer too. Robin Hood's popularity was waning and he couldn't afford to have witnesses. They'd hardly be singing his praises then...Without his own song, he could hardly expect them to!

Robin gritted his teeth and reached towards Yug. Surprisingly, the goat put up little resistance.

"So Evil isn't so powerful after all," said Robin, who couldn't resist gloating over his treasure. Now, all he had to do was head for the trees and all would be well...

"Unhand that goat!" boomed a loud voice.

Robin whipped around, almost dropping the spawn of Evil in the process. Before him stood the boldest in the land, the renegade without a band.

"The Varlet!" cried Robin. The cloaked figure took to his heels. Robin placed Yug back in his pen and gave chase.

The Varlet searched frantically for his horse, but the animal was nowhere to be seen. Then he spotted the crowd of children and his blood ran cold. He had not anticipated the entrepreneurial spirit of Edward of Wickham's brat.

Although Matthew of Wickham liked to associate with wolfsheads, he was really quite bright. When the Varlet began to gain fame in the villages, the boy saw an opportunity for profit. He started to charge two pennies for a ride on the Varlet's valiant steed. However, as Matthew's clientele consisted of peasants who couldn't afford even one penny, his generous heart prevailed and he charged the children nothing. Naturally, this made Matthew's little business very popular with the children from all the villages. All of them were gathered around Matthew and the horse.

"Drat!" cursed the Varlet. The man searched for another mount, but the best option he could find was a chicken. He paused briefly before the fowl, then ran out of the village on foot. Robin was only a few strides behind him.

They were about halfway to the forest when Robin took a huge leap and tackled his foe. Unlike Yug, the Varlet struggled furiously.

"Come on, don't be shy," said Robin sweetly. "I just want to take a peek at your face." Again, the Varlet struggled, but Robin was determined. He pinned down the other outlaw and threw back the hood. Then he gaped at the Varlet in horror.

"Gisburne?" he gasped.

  


* * * * 

  
_ Is Gisburne really the Varlet or could it be Martin Clunes?_

_If Gisburne is the Varlet, why? WHY? WHY? WHY?!_

_If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is there to hear it, does it still_  
make a sound or is its loud thump silenced under the strict dictates of an  
oppressive Norman regime?

_If Gisburne fell in the forest, and no one was around, would everyone still hear him? I fear so. _

  


* * * * 

  
Robin punched the knight. He often did this because Gisburne deserved it, but he usually decked his enemy because it was fun. Robin found it gratifying to see Gisburne fly backwards and lie stunned on the ground. Tonight was no different.

"Uhhh!" groaned the knight. He sat up slowly and groaned even louder when he remembered who punched him. He hung his head low. "To be caught as a wolfshead...by a wolfshead!" Gisburne lamented. "It's more than I can bear!" He eyed Robin mournfully. "You had might as well take that magical sword of yours and run me through with it!" he moaned.

Robin stared at his nemesis increduously. "Why, Gisburne? Why?"

"I didn't mean for it to happen. If it hadn't been for that sheep--"

"Sheep?" said the outlaw. "I think you had better start from the beginning. I'll pretend to listen."

Although Gisburne wasn't accustomed to taking orders from a wolfshead, he proceeded all the same. "One night, the Sheriff started criticizing me. He said I was incompetent and that I would never arrest you."

"So? What else is new?"

"I was completely sober at the time."

"Completely?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"I decided to rectify the situation and get drunk."

"And did you?"

"Oh, yes."

"What happened?"

"I devised a brilliant plan. I decided to spy on Wickham."

"At night?"

"I was drunk. Anyway, after ignoring the Sheriff's threats, I rode to Wickham expecting to find the villagers engaged in some devious pursuits."

"Like a wild orgy?"

"Yes, I had hoped so, but of course those serfs had to disappoint me! They were all asleep, probably with the intention of rising early and tilling the fields, the lazy scum! I was about to haul them from their beds when I caught movement in the corner of my eye. I turned quickly and saw a man trying to sneak out of the village with a sheep under his arm. I couldn't allow that, of course, so I forced him to release the animal. However, I was then left with this terrible dilemma. I knew I had to arrest the man, but could I risk revealing my identity to do so? I had meant to spy on Wickham in secret after all. And, then, there was the sheep to consider. How could I possibly take it and the thief back to Nottingham at the same time?"

"I don't understand. Why would you take it to Nottingham at all?"

"Why, as evidence of course."

"No other reason?"

"Stolen goods must be confiscated."

"And?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"And?"

"That's none of your concern."

"And?"

"God's Blood! I wanted some mutton, Wolfshead! All right?"

"But you didn't get it, did you?"

Gisburne pouted. "I tied up the thief and started off with the sheep. That was when the villagers decided to wake up. Suddenly, some man was yelling: Thief! Varlet! You took my goat!'"

"Goat? I thought it was a sheep."

"So did I," muttered the knight. "Apparently, it was a goat."

Robin started to laugh. "You can't tell the difference?"

"They both say baaaaaah, don't they?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"And it's not as if I could taste them."

"Well, no..."

"And it was very dark."

"But you must have felt its woolly coat!"

"Do you want to hear this story or not, Wolfshead?"

"Yes...but to not know the difference between a sheep and a goat--"

"Stop interrupting, damn you!" yelled Gisburne.

"All right."

"Shut up!"

Robin opened his mouth then nodded.

Gisburne glared at him suspiciously then continued because he enjoyed listening to the sound of his own voice. "When I saw the villagers, I ran for my horse, but that peasant scum surrounded me. I believe Edward was gathering stones to hurl at me, when his brat noticed the thief I had tied up by the shee-goat pen. 'Father! Father!' he said. 'The Varlet tied somebody up!' I thought that was the end. Edward would stone me for sure."

"What happened?" asked Robin, forgetting about the code of silence.

"You'll find this hard to believe, but after Edward ripped the gag out of his mouth the thief confessed!"

"What?"

"It's true! He said he had been stealing sh-goats all his life and had never been caught. He was so ashamed that he vowed never to steal again. It's rather a pity that I'll be hanging him on Tuesday."

"No you won't."

"Oh?"

"We're planning to rescue him."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Damn!"

"Don't worry. We might not succeed. The Varlet could beat us to it."

The knight groaned piteously. "I should have ripped off that cloak and arrested all of them!"

"Why didn't you?"

"I couldn't. They-they..."

"Yes?"

"They said I was a hero. I had never been one before."

"A hero?" scoffed Robin. "For saving a goat?"

"It wasn't just any goat!" protested the knight. "It was Yug!"

Robin suddenly leapt to his feet and Albion was out of its scabbard.

"What's the matter?" asked Gisburne, who sensed that something was the matter.

"You! You're the matter!"

"Oh. What have I done now?"

Robin thrust his sword into the ground angrily. He grew even more furious when he realized that he had missed his intended target. "You have a song!" shouted the outlaw. "I don't have a song!"

"Of course not. You're not the Varlet."

"But I'm Robin Hood!"

"Ah, but you're not the boldest in the land, the renegade without a band."

Robin attempted to extricate Albion from the ground.

"Whenever there's trouble, He's sure to make it double. The Varlet! That's the Varlet!"

"This has to end!" cried Robin, who was beginning to panic.

"You're right."

"What?" Robin released his grip on the hilt, and Albion flew through the air.

"I can't bear it any longer," explained the knight, as Robin searched for his sword. "At first, it was wonderful, but now...all the praise and adulation is just too much. It's hardly the sort of thing I'm accustomed to."

"You had a bad childhood too, didn't you?" said Robin bluntly.

"Yes! Why, did you?"

"No. Mine was very happy. I've just heard that there are people who did and I always felt rather bad about it."

"I hate you! Do you realize that?"

"Yes, I've had my suspicions. I used to assume it was because you were jealous."

"Jealous!"

"Yes, and I think you still are despite your cloak, horse and song."

"Oh, is that so?" Gisburne delved into his black cloak and pulled out a roll of parchment. "Why, I received this letter just the other day."

"Oh no...Scarlet's not sending you death threats again, is he?"

Gisburne glared at the outlaw, though he was relieved to finally learn the identity of his industrious correspondent. Nevertheless, Gisburne unrolled his weapon. "'My Dear Varlet,'" he read. "I have heard stories of your daring exploits, even here in this quiet lonely priory. These tales have stirred my interest, but your cloak has won my heart.'"

"What?" cried Robin.

"'I thought that I could never love another hooded man again, but I fear that you may prove me wrong.'"

"But--"

"'Please meet me in the chapel at Halstead Priory after evensong,'" continued Gisburne. "'I'll be in the third row, second nun on the left.'"

"NOOOOOOO!" screamed Robin.

"'Yours so very truly, Lady Wolfshead.'"

"Give me that!" Robin snatched the letter and pored over it frantically. It took awhile, but eventually Robin's fury subsided a little.

"There's only one way to end this," he said.

"Meet Lady Wolfshead in that pew after evensong?"

"No!" said Robin angrily. "We have to kill the Varlet!"

Gisburne stared at him, shook his head, and stood up quickly. "Oh, no! I may be thicker than Friar Tuck's midriff, but even I won't fall for that!"

Robin rose to his feet as well, blocking the knight's path before he could attempt another escape. "Gisburne, we make it look like _you_ killed the Varlet."

"What? How?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you seem quite happy to play this game of yours."

"Happy! How could I possibly be happy? Do you know how exhausting it is to steal all those things during the night, simply to rise early the next morning, ride to all those villages and confiscate everything the Varlet has taken! I've barely slept in days! I-I've stopped caring whether I catch all those bloody poachers or not, the torture chamber has lost all of its appeal...even my cape has been drooping!"

For a brief moment, Robin almost felt sorry for him. He also began to wonder if killing the Varlet was such a wonderful idea. Perhaps the Varlet should be killing Gisburne instead...Then Robin remembered the humiliation he had suffered in Wickham, the bitterness of defeat. "The Varlet must die," he growled.

"Well, how? How can I kill him if he's me?"

"I was going to tell you when you started making all of those allusions to Tuck's stomach!" Robin looked around carefully and lowered his voice. "I'll disguise myself as the Varlet and visit Wickham tomorrow at dusk. You'll also appear, but as Gisburne."

"And?"

"And you shoot me with a crossbow," explained Robin.

His enemy smiled blissfully.

"I'll have something under my tunic, Gisburne!"

"Oh."

Robin noticed that Gisburne did little to hide his disappointment. "Is it agreed?" he asked impatiently.

Gisburne glared at the outlaw, but knew he had no other choice. "All right," he replied reluctantly. "I agree."

  


* * * * 

  
_  
Robin almost skipped back to Wickham, he was so happy. His heart was lighter now that its burden had been lifted. If he had had a song to sing, he would have sang it. Perhaps this is why Robin was surprised when he heard singing as he entered the village. Everyone in Wickham was still awake, even the children. They each turned and smiled as the outlaw approached. Could it be true? Had they finally come to their senses? Had they renounced the Varlet and placed their faith in Robin Hood again?_

_"Who's singing?" asked Robin._

_Edward pointed towards the source of the music. The outlaw walked as if he were in a trance. A crowd had gathered around the goat pen. However, instead of chewing on a boot or a small child, Yug was..._

_"You're singing my song!" Robin pushed his way past the villagers and stood before the goat pen, enchanted._

_"Robin Hood," sang the goat. "Robin...da, da, da, da...the Hooded Man...Da dum. Robin Hood. Robin...da, da, da, da...Gisburne's half-brother. Da dum!" _

Robin screamed and sat up, sweat pouring down his face.

A hand fell on his shoulder. "What is it, lad?"

Robin stared at the bearded face in front of him, but this wasn't any goat. It looked like he wasn't in Wickham anymore. Suddenly Robin remembered stumbling into the camp after his startling confrontation with the Varlet, exhausted and eager to put one thoroughly bad day behind him. "I had a dream, John," he said.

"A dream?" Tuck asked. "I'd call that a nightmare!"

"I suppose it was. I dreamt that I was in Wickham and Yug was singing my song."

"Your song?" said John.

"Yug?" exclaimed Will.

"Yes, the one I started working on yesterday. Robin Hood. Robin...da, da, da, da...Gi-uh...never mind."

"'Gi-uh...never mind'? That ain't no song!"

"Aye, Will, it had no rhymes," said John.

"There's no metre either," added Much. "No alliteration, no kennings..."

"And 'Gi-uh...never mind' sounds awful!" stated Will.

"Well, I don't see any of you coming up with anything better!" yelled Robin.

"It would be hard to come up with anything worse!" retorted Will.

Robin was on his feet in an instant. "Right, I'll leave you to it, then!"

"Oh, he didn't mean anything by it, Robin," said Tuck, always the peacemaker. "We're all just upset about the Varlet."

"Are you? Well, you won't have to worry about him after tonight."

All of his men turned to him in surprise.

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Will.

Robin smiled. "Let's just say that you won't be in such a hurry to leave this band," he stated, looking directly at Nasir. "Oh, yes, I saw what you were doing in the woods yesterday."

The Saracen blushed deeply. He didn't realize that Robin was referring to a different activity altogether. "I'm sorry, Robin," muttered Nasir.

"You should be," said Robin sternly. "If I still thought you were the Varlet, I might not forgive you."

  


* * * * 

  
"Psst! Over here!"

The Varlet urged his horse forward, and Robin flew down from the tree.

"Ow!" howled Gisburne, who was lying supine on the forest floor. "What was that for, you fool?"

"Sorry. Force of habit."

"Force of habit? How's this for force of habit?" exclaimed Gisburne, biting Robin's leg.

"Hey, you've never done that before!"

"Oh? Haven't I? I always meant to." Gisburne slowly rose to his feet, and Robin took several steps back. The knight proceeded to brush the dirt off his black cloak. Robin approached cautiously, and Gisburne kicked him with relish. As the outlaw sank to the ground, Gisburne peeled off the cloak and tossed it at his enemy. "Here. I suppose you'll need this."

"I'll need your horse too, Gisburne."

"What?"

"His steed is black and quick its pace."

"But-but you can't! You're a wolfshead!"

"And the Varlet isn't?"

"But-but I need my horse!"

"You've got legs."

"I'm a knight! I can't be seen without my horse!"

"You've lost it before. If anyone asks you about it, just tell them I stole it."

"You have!"

"Then there shouldn't be any problems."

"All right," agreed Gisburne sadly. "You'll look after him, won't you?"

"Yes."

"And you won't dig your heels in too hard?"

"No."

"Will you--?"

"Oh, for the love of Herne, I'll look after your horse!" cried Robin. He patted the horse's flank gently as if to prove his good intentions. "Now, you'd better get going if you're going to reach Wickham by sunset."

  


* * * * 

  
"Look, everybody! It's the Varlet!"

"The Varlet! Where?"

Robin beamed behind the hood. Yes, this was much better. Robin dismounted Gisburne's horse gingerly and greeted his followers.

"Hey, didn't you used to be taller?" asked Matthew, who was already organizing a line of children in front of Gisburne's horse.

Robin shook his head.

"I could have sworn you were taller."

Robin shook his head.

"Did you go on a daring adventure today, Varlet?"

Robin shook his head.

"But you robbed somebody, didn't you?"

Robin considered the question for a moment, then shook his head.

"Have you brought us anything?"

Robin shook his head.

"Are you sure you're the Varlet?"

Robin shook his head. He instantly regretted it when Matthew gaped at him with wide hurt eyes.

"Oh...uh..."

"He's not the Varlet or, at least, he won't be when I'm through with him!" barked a voice both Robin and the villagers knew only too well.

Gisburne emerged from Yug's pen with a crossbow in his hands. Some villagers cursed and others screamed. Most just cleared a path for the knight. Robin touched the large block of wood under his tunic. Gisburne would have to be a very bad shot, indeed, if he missed this target. Perhaps this was why Robin was surprised when an arrow embedded itself in his shoulder.

"You shot me!" shouted Robin.

Gisburne dropped his crossbow, unsure whether he should be upset or overjoyed. It didn't take him long to decide. "The Sheriff always said you'd go far. No, wait...I've used that line already. Damn! I can't think of another one! Oh, well, I suppose I'll have to settle for gloating. I shot Robin Hood! I shot Robin Hood! Not the Sheriff of Nottingham or one hundred men on some tor, but little ol' me in little ol' Wickham!" Gisburne laughed as the villagers began to flee to their huts. "That's right! You'd better run! I might shoot you too!" The knight's laughter increased as Robin writhed in agony on the ground. Then, the mist started rolling in...

"Oh, oh..." said Gisburne. He knew he should run from the village, from Nottingham, and possibly even the shire, but he stood frozen to the spot. A figure slowly emerged from the mist: a figure with antlers...

"Wh-wh-what do you want?" stammered Gisburne.

"The Powers of Light and Darkness are with you. You are the Hooded Man," stated Herne.

"What? No I'm not! I'm not a wolfshead!"

"Yes, you are."

"But my name isn't Robin or Robert!"

"It would have been if your father had known about you."

Gisburne stared at Herne, unable to produce speech for some time. "You know who my real father is?" whispered the knight.

"Yes, but forget about him, Guy. I'm your father now."

Gisburne shook his head and started to back away. "No, that's not true...That's impossible!" *

"Search your feelings. You know it to be true." *

"NOOOOOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" *

"Guy, why are you cradling your wrist like that?"

Gisburne stepped farther back, then took to his heels.

"You'll be back," called Herne.

"Herne," croaked Robin.

"You cannot deny your destiny."

"I'm not dead yet." **

"Use the Powers, Guy!"

"Aren't you going to heal me?" demanded Robin, who didn't notice that the forest god was stuffing several pieces of toffee into his mouth. "Herne?"

"Oh Shwit!"

  


* * * * 

  
* Lifted directly from _ The Empire Strikes Back. _

** Strongly influenced by _ Monty Python and the Holy Grail. _ Ah, hell! I stole this one too, okay?


End file.
